


The Crystal Ship

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:10:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First touches, first kisses</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crystal Ship

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Doors song of the same name.

It's their third city in as many nights, and everyone is exhausted. They make their way through signings, all masked tolerance, the attention and praise lovely until it's really, really not. The bus is a blur, the hotel even more so. Tommy has been hanging off Adam, eyelids drooping, almost since they left the show, and neither of them even thinks about going their separate ways. They stumble into Adam's room, Adam's fingers tripping a bit over the keycard before the lock finally relents. Once inside, they collapse onto the couch, Adam sinking into the cushions, Tommy sinking into Adam.

They haven't even taken their makeup off yet.

It's hard to say when the habit began, this pattern of friendly touching, but easy to know why it continues. Both of them are tactile creatures, longing for touch, connection. But those things are surprisingly hard to come by, despite neither of them having a lack of offers. To say that the tour keeps them busy is an understatement. More often than not, there simply isn't time for going out, even for a quick hookup, not when they have to be in another state by morning. Days off are precious, and sleep takes precedence over anything – sleep and the rare chance to be really alone, away from the mobs of fans and the public eye and the crowded buses. And as other sources of tactile pleasure fade away, they've begun to rely more and more on each other to satisfy the mutual need.

Mostly, though, they do it because they fit so well together, just as they are now: Tommy tucked into Adam's side, Adam's arm settled protectively over his shoulders, the long lines of their bodies flush against one another. It's familiar, and comforting, and Tommy can hear Adam's heartbeat from where his head is resting against Adam's chest.

His eyelashes are sticking together as he blinks, and his lips feel dry, uneven, but it's not enough to get Tommy to move. The position they've fallen into is comfortable, soft, and it's beautifully quiet. Adam is usually a noisemaker, chatting away if there's someone to talk to, humming or singing under his breath if there's not, but tonight, he sits in silence, just breathing.

Tommy's almost dozed off, stray thoughts about not being able to open his eyes in the morning meandering through his head before being pushed away. He burrows deeper into Adam's side, adjusting himself until he's comfortable again, and in the process of doing so flops one arm over Adam's leg, his hand hanging at rest in midair next to Adam's thigh. He's just beginning to sink beyond the realm of conscious thought when he feels Adam's hand, big and warm and so soft, slide over to rest gently on top of his own. The feeling brings him back to wakefulness, barely, and he glances up at Adam's face. His eyes are still closed, his breathing even – flirting with the edge of sleep himself. Tommy closes his own eyes and relaxes again, letting himself feel the new sensation, Adam's thumb rubbing slow tracks over his wrist.

Eventually, his body moving of its own accord, Tommy moves his hand, drawing it back through Adam's light grip before bending it back, lacing their fingers together, seeking more. Adam's hand reacts effortlessly, going with the flow, and Tommy sighs contentedly as their fingers latch together, all the way to the palms. He watches their joined hands through his eyelashes, liking how Adam's painted nails look against his pale skin, and wonders how his own fingertips look against Adam's freckles, wonders if they match.

They may have slept that way, nodded off for a moment or two, but Tommy can't say for sure. Everything feels like a dream.

The next thing he's sure of is Adam's hand detaching itself from Tommy's and moving up his arm, his fingers barely there through the thick fabric of Tommy's hoodie. When Adam reaches his chin, he applies just the slightest bit of pressure, prompting Tommy to turn his head, look up at him. Tommy obliges, the smallest of smiles pulling at the corners of his lips, and Adam's eyes are open now, shockingly blue, eyelids heavy over them. He blinks up at Adam, slow, lazy, just enjoying the sensation of looking. He loves to watch Adam's face, his showman's expressions flashing over his features at a moment's notice, almost to quickly to follow sometimes. Right now, his face is still, peaceful, though his eyes never stop sparkling.

Adam's fingers move again, tucking Tommy's hair behind one ear, and then he's stroking Tommy's face, the backs of his fingers running from earlobe to chin, following his jawline, and back again. It's wonderful, and Tommy nuzzles into the touch, Adam's hand opening up to the pressure until Tommy's cheek is resting in Adam's open palm. They go still, and Tommy feels a spark of desire go through him, as shocking in the midst of his peacefulness as a lightning bolt in a clear summer sky. He's still looking into Adam's eyes, and Adam is looking back, and suddenly his whole body is crying out at once, a chorus all begging for more.

Adam must see it in his face, because his eyes flare, shooting wide just once, and then he's closing the distance between them, leaning down and forward, angling Tommy's head just so, until their foreheads are resting together, noses side-by-side, lips just barely, barely ghosting together, so light a touch that Tommy's not sure if it's happening at all. His eyes are closed now, his whole being honed in on that one sensation, that almost-touch. He can feel Adam's breath, puffing out through barely parted lips, mingling and combining with his own, and a shudder goes through his whole body. His back arches involuntarily, and his eyebrows knit together as if in pain, and he thinks that if Adam doesn't kiss him right now....

And then, before he has the chance to finish the thought, Adam _is_ kissing him, at once the most chaste and the most deliciously arousing kiss he's ever had, no movement, no pressure, no tongues, just lips resting against parted lips.

Tommy doesn't realize he's forgotten to breathe until the ache in his lungs becomes unbearable, and he gasps, his lips bursting open and air rushing into him, his eyes flying wide. Adam's lips are still, frozen where they were when they'd rested against Tommy's own, but he's smiling with his eyes, and Tommy can see the flush on his cheeks even in the dim light. There's a second or two when neither of them moves, eyes locked, hearts pounding synchronous rhythms in their chests.

Then Adam slides his hand from Tommy's cheek to the back of his neck and pulls him forward, kissing him again, deeper this time, longer, and Tommy gives himself up to it, following where Adam leads. The first slow lick of Adam's tongue into his mouth elicits a deep moan, and Adam's lips break into a grin. He giggles into Tommy's mouth, that infectious little laugh that always makes Tommy smile back, and a sense of euphoria cuts into Tommy's ever-growing desire and the bone-deep weariness lying beneath it.

Adam pulls away, still smiling, and he takes Tommy with him, settling him half into his lap, and if Tommy isn't quite as perfectly comfortable as he was before, he is about as close to Adam as he can physically get. Adam's head falls back against the intersection of couch and wall, and Tommy's head falls forward into the juncture of Adam's shoulder and neck, his lips resting against sticky-smooth skin, still sparkling from the show. His desire recedes, overcome by exhaustion for now, but still there, a slow burn, and Tommy thinks fleetingly of the day off tomorrow, and the possibility of stoking it into full flame.

They fall asleep there, together, wrapped up in each other.

In the morning, Tommy's eyelashes are almost glued together, and there's a pinching pain in his side from sleeping in a strange position, and his lips are dotted all over with Adam's glitter.

It's the best night's sleep he's ever had.


End file.
